The Devil's Hand
by Some Call Me Tim
Summary: My take one how a certain someone came to have a certain scar...Rated T for violence. Really depends on how sensitive you are, though.


**This is one of the darkest things I've ever written. That's what happens when school starts again! Anywho, please enjoy. Please?**

***Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, they're all Capcom's, yada yada yada...lucky bastards. (Jk I love you Capcom 3)**

Cool, clever, calculating- these words were synonymous with Kristoph Gavin. I was brilliant, in every aspect of the word. Unfortunately with genius usually comes a certain level of mental instability, as was such in this case. My relations thought nothing of it, however. Different, that's all I was. A kind of quirkiness to be expected from a boy with a personality such as mine. Besides, I was only 17, which was still practically a child. I was a growing boy, trying to find his place in the world. Of course I would be a little awkward! That's all there was to it.

And how wrong they were.

It happened so gradually to me that it might have been possible to find a cure- but alas, nothing was done. I discovered these changes before anyone else, so I was able to hide them and sustain my facade of normality. I began to notice something curious about myself: I seemed to lack a conscience. I felt nothing toward other living creatures. No mercy or pity; there was nothing there. I was empty.

Another thing that seemed strange to me was my never-ending boredom. Everything disinterested me, and everyone frustrated me. It was as if nothing could reach me level of intelligence, and there was not a thing or person that understood me. Loneliness and anger soon consumed me. Something evil had gotten a hold of Kristoph Gavin, and began to contort me into a monster.

Soon, I began to withdraw myself from the outside world. I found my only solace in books. Books were a place I could escape my otherwise excruciatingly dull existence. In books, I could lose myself and feel safe from all that was around me. But this constant solitude only made it worse for me when I had to join the world again.

My condition got exceedingly worse over the few months after I had realized it. Before too long, I was only leaving my room a few times a week. My family consisted of fools, and were completely oblivious to what was happening. In fact, the only one who sensed my change was my younger brother. Klavier thought of me as an idol and forever wished to be in my company. I had always pushed him away, particularly so after my transformation. A clingy little sibling was the last thing I wanted to deal with.

For some reason, Klavier had convinced himself that being more tenacious was the way to help me. Not only did he insist on pestering despite my constant efforts to be rid of him, but our parents had the audacity to get involved, scolding me for not being more welcoming and forced him on me. On top of that, they realized that the years they had spent stroking my ego had not been more harmful than beneficial, and now criticized me at every turn. In a way, they were to blame for the events that followed. It was them, after all, who pushed me over the edge.

After one especially heated argument, I stormed up to my room and violently locked myself in. What right did they have to try and control me? They were pathetic creatures compared to me; a waste of flesh. How I longed to be rid of all of them and their idiocy...

I had never felt so furious before, and was shaking uncontrollably. Nothing would relieve me of the anger and frustration I felt toward all of humanity.

A slight glint on my desk caught my attention. It was my steel letter opener, which I kept spotless and sharpened to a point. Then, as though being controlled by some evil outside force, I rushed over to my desk and grabbed the piece of metal. I sat down and and laid my hand down on the desk, palm down. Without hesitation, I brought the opener down on my flesh and raked across it. A sharp, searing pain shot through my arm as the blade cut through my hand. This feeling was wholly new to me. The pain was coupled with a feeling of pleasure and sick thrill. I laughed with an ill delight. The wound soon numbed, and I watched the blood flowing from my mangled limb. Was blood supposed to be so...dark? I was too preoccupied to notice that someone had entered my room. I spun around when I heard a gasp from behind me and faced the intruder.

"K-Klavier! How did you get in here?"

He answered nervously, staring at my mutilated hand. "I-I was worried when you ran up here, so I picked the lock. I wanted to make sure alright..."

Anger rippled through me once again. "How many times must I tell you that this my room is completely off-limits to you? You are never to enter here without permission!" I growled. He started to back away from me and out of the room. I called him back sharply, and he came and stood beside my chair.

I fiercely grasped his little arm with my good hand. "I need not tell you, Klavier, that you are not to speak of this. Or you shall greatly regret it."

His eyes began to well up with tears. "I-I just like to be with you, Kristoph. B-but I promise I shall stop bothering you. I don't want you to hurt yourself because of me...I'll stay away from you, I promise..." he whispered, and looked down as the tears fell off his cheeks and to the floor.

"Do not cry, Klavier. I will not allow my brother to show such weakness," I said calmly, and released his arm from my grip. "You may go now."

He retreated backward from the room, watching as I wrapped my wound with a bandage. He paused. "I...I love you, Kristoph," he said.

I inhaled deeply. "Go now, Klavier." And with that, he scurried away.

I sat there emotionless, studying my bandaged hand. I attempted to flex it, but my arm screamed in protest. I smirked again at the feeling and continued to stretch it. An odd feeling took hold of me...it was like something rippling through my hand. I unwrapped the bandages and tensed again to see. There was something there, in my hand, something evil...I tried a third time. It was there, in the shadows of my tendons...the Devil's face in my hand.

The Devil was there, within me.


End file.
